When she opened and heaved and birthed our daughter onto our mattress, I knew we’d never be rid of that bed—the one my dad offered to us, newlywed and broke, because “wouldn’t it be nice to have your old bed?” and my bride blurted out a grateful, “Sure!”

But I never told them how another man had cornered a younger me on that bed, and how I had since lain on it, hoping the mattress might dilate so I could crown and disappear into the womb of the next life.